The Promise of Safety is Undelivered
by Alaskada
Summary: Wyatt Halliwell is an overly-popular, well liked high-schooler who's almost graduated high-school and wants to go in to the police force. Christopher Perry puts up with an overly abusive foster family, is shy and rebellious, his magic slowly leaving him and almost leaving him for dead. When their paths meet, two worlds collide, and one will be left to shatter.
1. Cruel Families,

The Promise of Safety is Undelivered.

* * *

Wyatt Halliwell is an overly-popular, well liked high-schooler who's almost graduated high-school and wants to go in to the police force. Christopher Perry puts up with an overly abusive foster family, is shy and rebellious, his magic slowly leaving him and almost leaving him for dead. When their paths meet, two worlds collide, and one will be left to shatter.

* * *

This is dedicated to the amazing CrazyxChaotic who puts up with my writing, my swearing, moments of insecurity, my countless ideas and never asking for anything back. :3

* * *

Beta'd by the amazing CrazyxChaotic, who put up with my writing and spam for this god-forbidden story.

* * *

Warnings: Child Abuse, Possible Non-con, swearing, MalexMale

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Chapter One.

* * *

Drumming his fingers to the beat of the fast intro of the song he was listening to, he closed his eyes, getting a moments rest before leaving for school.

He refrained the urge to gasp when his headphones were ripped out and he was thrown to the ground, and he met the eyes of his foster-brother.

"Christopher, You're supposed to be getting ready for school." He snapped, and Chris closed his eyes bowing his head submissively. "Sorry, Jared." He said softly, grunting when he got a booted foot to his ribs.

Gasping in pain as three more kicks hit him harshly, he felt his face being pulled up and a fist hitting him, hard in the temple and the force sending his head slamming down on the wooden floor, a small cry of pain breaking from his lips.

"If anyone asks, you were in a fight." The older of the two snapped before walking off, leaving Chris on his own.

The emerald-eyed teenager pressed a hand to his head, whimpering quietly at the pain radiating from it. He knew he'd have to go see the school nurse about his ribs, at the very least they'd be bruised, and he took a shaky breath before standing.

Grabbing his phone from where his attached headphones had sent it flying, he sighed when he saw the slight crack in the screen, momentarily glad that it was a Nokia and not an iPhone before pocketing it and sliding on his riding jacket, slinging his messenger back over his shoulder and tightening the strap.

It probably was a really stupid idea riding in his condition, and with his head hitting the floor so hard, there was a probable concussion, if not, a massive migraine brewing.

Taking a shaky breath, he grabbed his keys and walked out the front doors, once again cursing with the foster family he was left with, cursing his parents for leaving him alone, cursed the weather for causing his parents to crash.

Cursed that he was with a family who would more likely than not kill him.

* * *

Stuffing his keys in his pocket, Wyatt sighed, cursing his mother for all the notes that he had to hand in to the school, including the enrollment notes for his Aunt Phoebe's two youngest children.

Looking up when his name was called, the blonde smiled when his longtime friend, Jared Perry walked up to him, taking some of his notes so that Wyatt could grab his bag.

"Thanks." He said, gratefully as they started the hike to the front office.

"How's your brother?" Wyatt asked, not feeling as confident as he usually was, only asking for his mother's sake who had seen the boy once and decided that he was much too skinny and underfed and since then had made Wyatt ask about the boy ever since.

"He's not my brother. He's adopted. But he's fine. Got in a fight last night though." Before Wyatt could ask if he was okay, the taller of the two continued. "He's okay, I think, haven't seen him since after dinner last night."

The lies flowed easily through his lips, and Wyatt didn't notice a damn thing, clueless to the abuse that his best-friend and his family had inflicted on the foster-child.

Entering the front office, he frowned uncertainty at his friends foster-brother who was slumped heavily in a chair and the woman who usually ran the sick-bay and take care of the notes, hovering over him with a cup of water in her hand.

"Christopher." She said sternly, but put a gentle hand on his chin and pulled his face up to look at her, "You're dehydrated, drink."

With what looked like a lot of effort, the teenager took the plastic cup from her hand and slowly sipped from it. Pleased, the nurse turned to the pair standing by the door awkwardly, her eyes narrowing on Jared in suppressed anger before she turned to the blonde.

"Mister Halliwell, how may I help you? Enrollment notes for your cousins right?" She nodded to herself and walked over to the brawny man quickly, taking the notes from him.

"Alright Dear, anything else?" She asked kindly, eying Jared shifting uncomfortably as his gaze was directed at his foster-brother, and she thought she saw a flicker of remorse in his eyes, and she almost snorted, bitter towards the older boy who picked on his foster-brother for being 'different.' Honestly, she knew about magic, and she wasn't magical herself, but she was a mentor for many witches, or in Chris' case, hybrids, in the school, and knew that they often had problems adjusting to the mortal world. For such a rare hybrid as Chris, she found it absolutely appalling that the teenager was treated such a way, the kid not that much older than sixteen. She was close to the boy, and it was a mutual feeling, to the point that he had opened up about everything and had cried in front of her.

"Just notes for excursions and such." He said in that unique friendly way of his, before handing the notes to the elderly woman, who walked to the desk and put them down on the pile that she had to go through before turning to Chris who had basically slumped over in his sleep, almost asleep.

"No you don't boy. I'm almost positive you have a concussion and until I'm absolutely certain, you don't get to sleep. Knowing you, you'd never wake up." She snapped, clicking her fingers under his nose and watched as he sighed and straightened up.

"You two can go." She dismissed the two seniors, barely turning their way as she crouched in front of the student she cared for most, though she'd never admit to it.

"You need to tell someone." She said softly. "I don't think your body can take much more of this."

Chris snorted bitterly. "Right, I've been arrested three times in the past year and a half, no one will believe that the Perry's, the 'good' people of politics is beating their foster son. Just forget it Maureen. Can I stay here for the day?"

She nodded, "I'll tell your teachers for the day, there's no way you're leaving here in your condition, how you even got here was mystery to me. But you're a mystery yourself, aren't you?" She asked herself, walking away from the brunette who immediately slumped down in his seat, and she rolled her eyes at him gently, fighting the urge to walk back over and brush the too-long brown bangs from his beautiful eyes.

She fought it strongly though. She knew that the boy liked to hide behind things, rebellious and popular he may be, but he wasn't outgoing, preferring to do his own things instead of in a big group of people.

His hair was almost like his security blanket, you take it away and the damn child is even more lost and upset than it was without it. And she hated seeing that in the boys eyes.

She knew the boy rarely had a sense of belonging unless he was out running with his magical family. The people who took care of the boy and healed him. Made sure he was okay and were over-protective of the boy, not going after his family for the pure fact that they weren't magical.

"Chris," She repeated again, "You can't stay with them, it's taking a toll on you. Don't pretend I've not noticed how skinny you've gotten. You're entering dangerous territory staying with them. If they keep this up, there's no doubt you'll die. I'm surprised your ribs aren't broken and piercing your lungs. Go stay with the runners." She reverted to their other name, watching as glazed green eyes looked up at him.

"I'm just a waste of space, really. It doesn't matter if they almost kill me day after day. Maybe one day they'll succeed, and I won't be in the way anymore." He whispered softly, his eyes directed on the wall behind her.

"Chris," She started, walking over to him and caressing his face gently, her rage suppressed. "You're an amazing child, and I've seen your academic work when you do it, you're could become something even more amazing than what you are. And as to you being a waste of space? You're wrong. You're one of the best people I know and I know that the runner's will agree with me."

"You're bias." He said, still whispering and he blinked against the sting of tears. "No one would care if I went missing." And Maureen sighed, irritably.

"Chris, listen to me. So many people would miss you. The Runners, they'd be torn up. They need you. I need you. People out there need you. Stop talking about this and I'll go get you a bottle of water." She ran her hand through the silky brown hairs, and bit her lip before walking away.

She knew the women for the job to help bring the child back to the person he used to be before all this shit happened to him.

The Halliwell Sisters.

If they didn't know what to do, no one would.

And she seriously hoped that they could do their help quickly, because that teenager in the other room would soon be drowning in his own depression.

Soon, if he didn't get help, she would be positive the boy would be too far gone before someone could talk him round.

And nobody in the magical community could afford that. No one.

At all.

* * *

**So, this is the start to a hopefully, multi-chaptered fanfiction, which should be finished hopefully soon, because I don't have long until school ends and my seven week holiday. :3**


	2. Do you Believe in Magic?

The Promise of Safety is Undelivered.

* * *

Wyatt Halliwell is an overly popular, well liked high-schooler who's almost graduated high-school and wants to go in to the police force. Christopher Perry puts up with an overly abusive foster family, is shy and rebellious, his magic slowly leaving him and almost leaving him for dead. When their paths meet, two worlds collide, and one will be left to shatter.

* * *

A/N: Whoa, I was really happy at the amount of reviews I got so quickly. Thank you. :3 Also, this is more to get the facts out then a plot so it's not so drawn out later.

* * *

This is dedicated to the amazing CrazyxChaotic who puts up with my writing, my swearing, moments of insecurity, my countless ideas and never asking for anything back. :3

* * *

Beta'd by the amazing CrazyxChaotic, Dustin and Amanda, who helped in CrazyxChaotic's absence.

* * *

Warnings: Child Abuse, Non-con, swearing, MalexMale, Possible drug use in later chapter, under aged drinking.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for 'The Runners' and the Characters you don't recognise.

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

_And nobody in the magical community could afford that. No one.__At all._

Maureen glanced in Chris' direction nervously, the boy distracted by his phone, no doubt texting one of his friends. She grabbed the phone off the cradle and started towards the staff room.

"Chris, I'm just going to make a phone call." She said, and watched as he slowly reacted, looking up from his phone and looking at her, blinking slowly before nodding. It was worrisome and she would check it out the second she had finished her phone call.

She close the door, still feeling uneasy about making the call even as the door clicked, confirming that it was, indeed, shut properly.

Taking a shaky breath and feeling more nervous than she had in years because she could be doing more harm than good to the magical community, which could put them all, over seven and a half billion people, in jeopardy.

Dialling the number that she knew off the top of her head because she had called that damn household so many times in the past year it wasn't funny.

She listened to the dial tone, gulping slightly as she heard the Eldest Halliwell sister greet her.

"Piper Halliwell? Yeah, It's Maureen Sullivan. Yeah. I need your help."

* * *

Wyatt grimaced at the music that was playing from his friends headphones, not one in to modern rock, screaming music or similar types of music, the blonde preferring old classic music, and the except of very few Alternative rock bands.

"How do you even listen to this?" He asked, turning to his friend. Jared grinned, "There's nothing wrong with a little Parkway Drive or Linkin Park. 'Sides, you listen to pansy music, pretty sure Chris listens to both my type of music and yours."

"Weird." Wyatt muttered, and Jared nodded his agreement. "The kid is weird, full stop. Doesn't seem to learn even with his smarts." He snorted, sounding almost bitter, and Wyatt frowned, a flicker of guilt at him once more thinking that there was much more going on in the Perry family then Jared had let on,.

He shook his head, Jared's family was a good family, his mother, Karen, was a nurse, working with Wyatt's father down at the local hospital. Tony Perry, Jared's father, was a lawyer, a well known once with a popular and high-paid firm, and Wyatt respected the man.

He didn't know how the man did it, day after day, arguing with people to get his point through. Wyatt had a long fuse and still packed a hissy fit at his sister when she got on his nerves by questioning and arguing everything he said.

He wondered if Chris was anything like the Perry's. He had briefly known the kid before his real parents had died, the boy had been shy, but sweet and good mannered, a far cry of what he was now. He often was told by his uncle Henry about the boy, often getting himself in trouble with underage drinking, being out past two am, drag racing and breaking into stores. From what he had heard from the cop, the adopted Perry was also a fan of graffiting whatever he could lay his hands on, and was rather good at it as well.

He knew he was thinking too much about it, and sighed, looking at his friends around him, Jared listening to his music loud enough that Wyatt could hear it. A blonde girl named Hayley and her friend Bianca were discussing their plans for tonight and the weekend, the two always up to something when they had the chance.

A friendly guy slightly older than Wyatt named Lewis was leaning on the wall, tapping on his phone's screen, and Wyatt rolled his eyes, the almost-man obviously on Facebook.

He had a Facebook account, but he, honestly, rarely used it, being bored with it easy and only using it to talk to his friends, not interested in anything in news feed, unlike his sister Mel; The fourteen year old had a tendency to like and share every photo, often tagging Wyatt in things and clogging up his emails. She had over three hundred friends on there, and Wyatt had barely over a hundred and he was one of the most popular people in his school.

He had stalked several people, noting that Chris did have a Facebook account, but not under the name Perry, instead using a different last name; Wright.

Sighing softly, he looked down at his phone that had vibrated in his pocket, quickly sliding his finger over the screen and reading the message from his mother.

'_Signed you out early, be at magic school at 2:30." _He checked the time in the top corner of his phone, noting that it was two now, and he typed a quick reply, locking his phone and stuffing it into his pocket.

Deciding that there was nothing to do for the next fifteen minutes of his break, he slid down the wall, happy to just sit in silence around his friends and feel comforted without noticing it.

Little did he know how much someone else wanted that feeling, just for a little while, without the fear of being a punching bag.

* * *

Sighing, Chris looked up at Maureen. "So, basically, you want me to go to Magic School, spill my guts, tell the Halliwell family why my species is called 'The Runners,' and then go home to be a punching bag, again." He nodded, "Okay, let's go."

He held his hand out for the elderly woman, and she hesitantly took it, after all the years she had dealt with magic, she still wasn't used to the magical transportation.

Checking for anyone around, he slung his bag around his shoulder with his free hand, and in an almost silent sound, they left the room with a small explosion of lights.

Maureen closed her eyes as her feet hit the ground, hating the feeling of being un-materialised and back again, before bracing herself, turning and seeing the youngest Charmed One in her Magical School robes, still Headmaster after all the years and she greeted her with a soft smile and gained one in return.

Chris shifted uncertainly, feeling out-of-place and different among the magical auras he could sense, and he trailed after the elderly woman, watching as she talked to Paige in a hushed voice, the two of them looking over at him every so often and he fought the urge to drive his fist through something, knowing that the bones in his hands had only just healed from the last time he had done that.

Eventually, Paige had turned to him, offering him a wide smile and holding out her hand.  
"I'm Paige," She greeted, shaking his hand, and he softly offered his name in response.

"Well, we better get moving, lots of things to discuss in such a short time." She said, sounding almost too chipper. Chris knew it was put on, having acted for almost over five years, and licking his chapped lips nervously, he followed the half-breed down the never-ending halls of Magic School.

* * *

He was slightly nervous when he saw the amount of people crammed into one room, not at all surprised to see Wyatt among the magical beings, and to say the same for Wyatt seeing Chris would be a flat-out lie.

"I've never sensed his magic." He hissed to his mother, almost nervously, because he had almost always been able to sense magical people, and not to was foreign. Wrong.

"Alright," Paige said, leading the three of them to seats. "How about, we start with Chris telling us all what the hell a Runner is, because I am insanely curious." There was murmurs of agreement, and Chris looked down at his hands as he spoke.

"A runner." He started slowly, his shyness kicking in and he took a shaky breath. "It's a forbidden hybrid, even more so than a witch-lighter. It's a mix of Nephilim; a fallen angel, and an unknown creature, though many say that it's related to fire. Our magical signatures are different and considering how rare we are, we're often hunted for bounty. A basically unknown species for either witch, whitelighter or demon would be jackpot, if they were to figure us out completely, they'd probably be named king or queen of the magical community."

Hands clammy, he took a calming breath, his emerald eyes meeting Maureen's blue ones. There was no anger, but she could see the fear that was hidden deep within. The fear that he wouldn't be accepted.

She smiled softly, wishing that she could sweep the boy up in a hug to guard him from those feelings. Wishing that she could rid them, vanquish them.

The others in the room didn't seem all that surprised, or looked like that they wanted to kill Chris. They were all very calm, shock overridden by understanding and sympathy. They knew what it was like to be on the run, knew that it had to be a hundred times worse for the teenager, running from both the world he grew up in, and the world that he belonged to.

None of them could even fathom how hard it would be, and they honestly didn't want to. They were well-known and looked up to in the magical world. Henry was an officer, his co-workers kind and friendly. Leo worked at the hospital, well-liked by both the patients and the staff.

Every single one of them had a sense of belonging, something that Chris didn't, and Piper was determined to change that, the boy always had a place to stay with them and she said as much.

The reply she got was surprising, but expected. A sad smile graced his face, followed by, "Thanks Mrs. Halliwell, but It's okay."

It wasn't Okay. Maureen thought. It wasn't fair that the boy didn't know a loving touch to a hateful one, that he was accustomed to the pain. That he no stranger to the fact that someone who responsible to care for him and love him could kill him.

She wondered how much longer he could live like this.

If he would make it out alive if the Charmed One's could help, or if he wanted to be alive if they did so.

She wondered how much more he could endure before breaking, losing himself, either to the depression, the darkness or if he would let it get so bad that it would lead to his demise.

She hoped he would endure it as long as he could.

* * *

Posted on the 26th of November

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Thank you so much for all the reviews and support. :3


	3. What I Thought Was Never Real

**The Promise of Safety is Undelivered.**

* * *

**Wyatt Halliwell is an overly-popular, well liked high-schooler who's almost graduated high-school and wants to go in to the police force. Christopher Perry puts up with an overly abusive foster family, is shy and rebellious, his magic slowly leaving him and almost leaving him for dead. When their paths meet, two worlds collide, and one will be left to shatter.**

* * *

**This is dedicated to the amazing CrazyxChaotic who puts up with my writing, my swearing, moments of insecurity, my countless ideas and never asking for anything back. :3**

* * *

**Beta'd by the amazing CrazyxChaotic,**

* * *

**Warnings: Child Abuse, Non-con, swearing, MalexMale**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for 'The Runners' and the Characters you don't recognise.**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

_She wondered how much more he could endure before breaking, losing himself, either to the depression, the darkness or if he would let it get so bad that it would lead to his demise._

_She hoped he would endure it for as long as he could_

* * *

Chris had soon disappeared after admitting his species, and Wyatt pondered over the fact of how the boy withdrew into himself when people looked at him or when Maureen had touched him. There was something more to the boy than he let on.

The blonde sighed, walking into his room. Having left Magic School only mere minutes ago, he thought he deserved a little bit of rest before he started in on what Maureen had assigned to him and Mel. To get as close to Chris as possible.

He could only just sense the magic in Chris, the magical pulse weak and thready, and Wyatt couldn't fathom why. He still didn't understand why he couldn't sense the boy before, he had almost always been able to sense magical beings before, his friend Marcus was proof of that, having sensed him before they met.

Falling back on his bed, Wyatt sighed again, feeling tired and confused. He was determined to find out the mystery to Chris, but he was no Sherlock Holmes, and Wyatt could definitely use Sherlock's help on this.

What was Chris' story?

* * *

Chris winced, tears springing to his eyes when his hip slammed against the sharp edge of the kitchen table. He refused to look up, keeping his head down in a submissive pose that would at least allow him some rest before the next lot of abuse started up.

He watched his foster-father's shoes walk away. He exhaled, releasing his held breath, a hand going to down to his hip to rub the offended limb. It didn't help that his 'father' Tony had taken out his anger on that very hip.

He slowly walked into his bedroom, the pain spiking in his hip as he walked up the stairs, gasping in pain as he made his way to the top. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Karen walking towards him, her face concerned.

She didn't approve of her husband and son's antics, it went against her morals, often working in the pediatric ward in the hospital, a few cases of abuse making their way in, and more often than not they had resulted with her in tears.

Gently leading the boy to his room and carefully pushing him down onto the edge of the bed, she smiled softly as he allowed her to take care of him. She knew that he normally despised physical contact, and she knew why.

"You shouldn't have to put up with this." she said softly, unknowingly repeating the same words that Maureen had said earlier that day. "It's not okay, some of your injuries should have you in the hospital." Her touch was gentle as she carefully pulled off his shirt. She almost sobbed at his distress when she felt him tense under her hands.

She noticed the purpling bruises that were inflicted that very morning over his ribcage, and the already-red splotches of skin that would turn into nasty bruises later, that were inflicted by her own husband, the same man who had once told her every day how much he loved her and brought her flowers.

She gently pressed down against the bruises over his ribs, apologizing when she felt Chris flinch under her hand. "Your ribs seem okay, how about your head? Headache?" he nodded slightly, the dull ache in his head becoming more prominent at the mentioning of it. She frowned. "How bad? On a scale of one to ten?"

He muttered softly under his breath, Karen only just being able to make out the word 'six' coming from his lips, and she pushed his fringe away from his eyes, checking the pupils.

"I don't think you have a concussion, but I'm worried about your hip. I think it'll be mostly okay if it's not bleeding, though." "S'not." Chris informed her quietly, and she nodded, biting her lip. And not being the first among people, she wished that she could take this away from the boy.

She was a trophy wife, she couldn't speak up without a violent tongue lashing or a light slap to her face, nothing compared to what Chris got just for breathing too loud. If it weren't for her fear, she would've spoken up months ago, but she was selfish, scared of the consequences that would soon follow. She had kept quiet for five years of abuse, something that could've been overcome if she had spoken up to the hospital years ago.

She watched sadly as the boy fell back on his bed, feeling even more guilty than she had before. He didn't deserve this. No one did.

* * *

'I wanna heal, I wanna feel, what I thought was never real, I wanna let go of the pain I felt so long. I wanna heal, I wanna feel like I'm close to something real, I wanna find something I've wanted all along, Somewhere I belong.'

Chris snorted at the irony of the lyrics. How much they related to him, it was almost as if they were talking about his life. He sighed as he leaned against the wall, his eyes sliding shut, trying to relax. His hip was burning, his head hurting and his ribs aching.

Comfortable in the dark silence in his mind, he sighed softly, allowing the relaxation to wash over him. Before he was even aware of it, he had succumbed to the world of sleep.

* * *

_"Et tu, Chris?" the blonde haired man asked, an evil smirk on his face, "Of all the people to betray me?"_

_A much older version of Chris shook his head, green eyes shining in fury. They were cold, almost emotionless. "I didn't go back to betray you Wyatt, I went back to save you." _

_Wyatt threw his head backwards, a deep laugh breaking through his lips. "Save me? From what?" _

_Chris shook his head once again, "From whatever darkness that turned you."_

_Wyatt sighed, exasperated . "That's always been your problem, Chris. Stuck in old good versus evil morass. I'm so past that. It's all about power. It's as simple as that." _

_Chris snorted. "It's never been that simple, Wy." He shot his hand out watching as Wyatt paled slightly, before steadying himself. "What're you to do Chris? You're just half whitelighter and a normal witch. Nothing compared to me." _

_Chris shrugged. "You think? Maybe sometime you should do some homework." Flicking his fingers, he watched as Wyatt fell the ground in pain, gasping. Walking forwards, he crouched down in front of the blonde. "I'm not half whitelighter Wyatt, nor am I an ordinary witch, and if I tried, I could kill you, but I'm just going to settle for so much pain that you can't breathe." He whispered, pushing the hair from the blonde's face._

_"I'm not human, Wyatt. Even less so than you. Watch your back." He flicked his fingers, watching as the blonde stilled, and he aimed a rough kick to him. _

_"I might lose my temper. I was with an abusive family for almost six years. I have so much pent-up anger, and I might use you for the release." He growled, stepping over him and towards the podium, a dark look in his eyes._

* * *

Chris awoke with a jolt, shaking his head. It wasn't the first time he had a dream like that. He honestly was getting used to them, but every time, it still freaked him out.

He pulled himself up, cracking his neck and reached into his bedside table, fingers grasping the alcohol bottle he had stashed there along with three other bottles several weeks ago. Taking a long swig, he sighed, looking at the bottle. There wasn't much left, and this was his last bottle. At the rate he was going, he would most likely drink himself to death.

Sometimes that didn't seem like a bad idea.

* * *

Wyatt sighed, entering in his password for Facebook. He had rarely used the site, finding it boring and a waste of time, but he would take his mission seriously, he knew that Maureen was relying on him and Melinda to help the boy. He didn't understand how Melinda would help though, the girl almost fifteen. Teenagers didn't like to mix ages, at least not often. He knew first hand that Chris didn't either, a fair few of Wyatt's friends had tried to talk to the rebellious kid with no luck.

He sighed at the amount of notifications and messages he had, choosing to ignore them for the time being. He typed in 'Chris' to the search bar, hoping that the kid would show up, he couldn't remember his last name for the life of him.

To his luck, the name Christopher Harvey came up, with four mutual friends written underneath. Clicking on the link, his eyes immediately went up to the display picture. It was a sketched black and white drawing of a Phoenix. Squinting, he saw in cursive writing the words, "Risen from the ashes." He just recognised the handwriting, only seeing it a few times when going to Jared's house and seeing the kid working on homework.

He knew that Chris drew, but he didn't know that he was this good at it. The phoenix had a lot of detail to it, fire whirling around the bird and what looked to be ashes down at the bottom.

Scrolling down to double check he was getting the right person, he saw posts made by other people, a few were requests for drawings, most going unanswered. Others were what Wyatt recognised as the brunettes close friends.

There were pictures that he was tagged in, a few down at the local skatepark and a video of Chris' friends, also at the skatepark, with the post stating, Dylan's epic fail with Chris's epicness. Automatically clicking on the video and watched it buffer, Wyatt felt like he was acting like a two hundred pound girl with a crush on a boy.

Pushing the thought from his mind, he looked up as the video started playing, a tall blonde on a scooter standing on top of a ramp with Chris next to him, a skateboard in hand and another boy with a ripstick. Chris held a cigarette in his mouth and Wyatt wrinkled his nose, not a fan of smokers.

There was a talk between the three boys, and Chris appeared to roll his eyes, throwing the cancer-stick on the ground and crushing it with the tip of his shoe before turning to the scooter-boy.

He pushed the boy who was standing on the scooter with one leg planted on the ground to keep his balance.

There was a not-so manly squeal and the two others and the filmer laughed as the other slid down the hill, scooter to the side. Standing up, the boy gave Chris the finger, grabbing his scooter and walking to stand near the filmer.

"Come on, Stoph." He called, no anger in his voice, "Be pro." Chris turned to the other boy, and they swapped their rides, Chris putting the ripstik on the ground.

Standing on it, he pushed off, and skillfully kept his balance down to the middle, where Wyatt thought he would stop. But he continued going up the ramp and Wyatt honestly had no idea how he made it to the top considering he couldn't even ride a normal skateboard.

The camera cut off and Wyatt smirked, not exactly sure how that was epic, but he was impressed about it. Maybe the kid would be worth actually trying to make legitimate friends with him.

This kid had a lot more to him than Wyatt had realised.

And he had a feeling that there would be more than the blonde could ever think of.

* * *

Stuffing the menthols in his pocket, Chris quietly walked out of the house, wincing when the door shut a little too loudly for his liking. At two a.m., the Perrys had long gone to bed, and all of them seemed to be light sleepers. If he was caught, there was a likely chance that he would be beaten for it.

Letting out a breath of relief when he couldn't hear anyone stir, he walked away from the house, deciding that if he couldn't find anything to do, he'd at the very least cause some trouble.

He wanted a release.

He deserved that much.


	4. Frank, the Homeless Ex-Lawyer

**The Promise of Safety is Undelivered.  
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**Wyatt Halliwell is an overly-popular, well liked high-schooler who's almost graduated high-school and wants to go in to the police force. Christopher Perry puts up with an overly abusive foster family, is shy and rebellious, his magic slowly leaving him and almost leaving him for dead. When their paths meet, two worlds collide, and one will be left to shatter.  
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**This is dedicated to the amazing CrazyxChaotic who puts up with my writing, my swearing, moments of insecurity, my countless ideas and never asking for anything back. :3 3  
**

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**Beta'd by the amazing CrazyxChaotic,  
**

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**Warnings: Child Abuse, Non-con, swearing, MalexMale,  
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**Disclaimer: -Steals- IT'S ALL MINE! ALL MINE! -Drops in a puddle- …shit.  
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**Chapter Four  
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_Deciding that if he couldn't find anything to do, he'd at the very least cause some trouble._

_He wanted a release._

_He deserved that much.**  
**_

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Broken glass littered the pavement and the smell of liquor was almost overpowering. It had a sense of belonging, though. Drunken people with no senses whatsoever smiling at him, none of them looking like they'd try to harm them. A drug dealer, down a rather dark alley way he had cut through, had raised his eyebrows, winking at him.

Feeling like he was a part of some kind of group, he winked back, a cocky smile crossing his face. With a smirk, he walked down the familiar path, stopping next to a dark figure leaning against the wall of a chapel.

"Hey, Frank." He greeted calmly, sliding down the wall to sit down next to the man.

A scruffy face peered up at him, before Frank smiled, recognition crossing over his face.

"'Ey, Kid." He replied, accent thick and slurred "Out of ya' stash 'lready?" An eyebrow was raised, and Chris snorted bitterly.

"Yeah, It's gone much quicker than I'd like to admit." He leaned against the man slightly, smiling softly when an arm wrapping around his shoulders.

"The best I can do t'night, Kid, is share a couple of me bottles wit' ya. Gettin' more bottles inna few days." He offered Chris a brown bottle, and after a cursory sniff, the teenager took it gratefully. Taking a swig, the liquid burning it's way down his parched throat, he spoke. "It's gotten worse,"

"Awh, Kid." He said affectionately, "Wish I could do somethin' for ya. If I was still a lawyer, I'd help ya. Couldn't do nuthin' for you now."

"Nothing you could do." Chris whispered softly, and he felt the arm around him tighten. "I wish I could just live out here with you. But knowing my luck Maureen would have a search party to find me if I don't show up for a few days."

Frank laughed softly. "Kid, why would'ya wanna stay wit' me? Just'a drunk wit' money, no home. Nuthin' but money, beer an' drugs."

"Friendship matters more than anything. Beer follows closely. Living the primelife with you sounds great. Wouldn't even have to speak English."

Frank fought back tears hearing the kid right in front of him, the boy barely sixteen and warming his battered heart more than he ever thought would be possible. The kid was beaten almost every day, he had lost his parents, had to stop using his native tongue, but yet, even through his hell, the kid could make anyone's day. Or anyone's drunken morning.

"Kid, if I wasn't so selfis', I'd tell ya that ya shouldn't take after me, but I want ya 'round. So, make ya choice."

Chris smiled softly, "I want to stay with you, but I'd doubt anyone would let me stay long. But I'll stay as long as I can."

Frank's battle with the tears was lost, and he smiled at the kid who was curled into his side, slowly sipping from the bottle of whiskey.

"I'm glad ya stayin' wit' me, kid."

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Waking up as the sunlight glinted on broken glass, catching his eyes, Chris looked up to Frank, the man still sleeping. A glass bottle was held tightly in his hand and the other was grasping the teen's leather jacket that was nearly two sizes too big. Smiling, Chris leaned in to the touch, one of the few touches he could actually stand these days.

Frank snorted in his sleep, shifting slightly and Chris rolled his eyes. From the position of the sun leaking into the alleyway, he estimated it to be around eleven a.m. It was typical that he only managed to get a decent amount of sleep in an alleyway.

Sighing as he heard his obnoxiously loud ringtone, he discovered that both his arms were pinned, one against Frank, the other under the older mans arm. Gently prying the older man's arm away, he almost groaned when the man awoke, his face annoyed at the ringtone.

"Answer it." He demanded, sounding almost fearful that his companion might be taken away from him.

Chris nodded, pulling it out of his pocket and looking at the display, which flashed up with Karen's name, he sighed again, his eyes meeting Frank's grey ones as he answered.

"Hey, Karen." He said as calmly as possible. "I'm okay, I just left early this morning." It wasn't a complete lie, he left at two a.m., which counted as early morning. "Yeah, I took my other bag," He lied easily, his hand unconsciously going down to his hip. "it's fine," he snapped before apologising at his outburst.

"Look, Karen, I gotta go, Maureen wants me to do something for her." He hung up and met Frank's eyes. "I still want to stay with you, but we can't stay here. They'll find us in no time."

The grey-eyed man nodded, and Chris smiled. "It's up to you where you want to go, but we need to get out of here quick. Karen's suspicious and it won't take her long to call Maureen. She's at work and so is Tony, so we should be fine to get stuff.' He informed the older man, who smiled softly, his eyes glinting.

"Let's go then, 'Ey kid. Get this show on da' road." He said softly, picking up the only alcohol bottle the duo hadn't drunk and patting down his coat, making sure he had everything.

Nodding for Chris to lead the way, he smiled softly after the short figure. He would finally be somewhere special with someone he cared for.

Hopefully this time it wouldn't end in disaster.

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Short chapter in Chris's POV. :3 To make up for the shortness of it, I'll try to have an extra long one up soon. ^^"  
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	5. Author's note, Apologies

So sorry for the wait guys, but you'll have to be a waiting a little long.

I'm currently rewriting this story and posting it as another story. I will try to get the story out soon and get it completed, and I will take requests and in the meantime.

Apologies,


	6. The Name,

Update,

To the people asking the name of the new story, it'll be called The Beaten and The Damned, and hopefully, should be up within the next twelve hours. Also, this story will be deleted when it is posted.


	7. Chapter 7

The Beaten and The Damned, (The re-write to this story) is finally up. Let me know what you think and whether or not I should scrap it.


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